Novel Square
68
Los Angeles, Sebastian
I sat at my desk in the office, surrounded by a mound of paperwork that seemed to multiply with every passing hour. The meeting earlier in the day had left me drained, but there was no respite in sight. The rest of the day loomed ahead, and the tasks seemed endless.
As I tried to focus on the reports in front of me, my assistant appeared at my door, her face a mix of concern and efficiency. In her hand, she held a steaming cup of coffee, the aroma wafting toward me, offering a brief moment of comfort.
“Your coffee, Mr. Thornton,” she said, her voice a soft, soothing tone in the midst of the chaos that was my workday. I managed a weary smile and reached out to accept the cup. Coffee had become my lifeline, a source of caffeine-induced motivation to plow through the never-ending stack of papers.
My assistant placed the cup on my desk, being as careful as ever, and I nodded in appreciation before returning my attention to the computer screen. The keyboard clacked with my fingers dancing across it as I typed and arranged the documents, my mind racing to complete the tasks at hand.
But then, in a cruel twist of fate, the inevitable happened. My fingers slipped on the keyboard, and I knocked into the cup of coffee. It teetered precariously for a moment before toppling over, the scalding liquid splashing across the desk, papers, and a few drops even landing on my crisp white shirt.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.
“Fuck!” The curse escaped my lips, louder and more vehemently than I intended. My frustration was palpable as I stared at the chaos before me, coffee stains spreading like an inkblot, obscuring the important details of the documents I had been painstakingly working on.
My assistant rushed to my side, her eyes wide with concern. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, her voice trembling with guilt.
I sighed, realizing that it wasn’t her fault, and tried to temper my frustration. “It’s alright. Accidents happen.” I watched as she quickly retrieved a stack of napkins and started to blot at the mess. Her efficiency was commendable, but I knew that the damage was already done.
As my assistant worked to clean up the spilled coffee, I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes for a brief moment. It was one of those days when it felt like everything was going against me. The meeting earlier had left me mentally exhausted, and now, I was faced with the daunting task of starting over on the paperwork.
When my assistant had done her best to salvage the documents and desk, she discreetly slipped out of my office, leaving me alone to face the remnants of my coffee mishap. With a heavy heart and a sigh of resignation, I knew there was no other choice. I had to start from scratch.
I missed Mia. The longing for her presence tugged at my heart, a constant reminder of the physical distance that separated us. I wished she was closer, within arm’s reach, so I could visit her at any moment, or better yet, come home to her. The fact that she lived all the way in New York was such a bummer.
I had never been one to engage in long-distance relationships; they always seemed more of a hassle than a pleasure. But Mia was different, and the thought of her made the distance worth it, every single mile. She was the love of my life, my anchor, and the woman I wanted to spend my future with.
As I sat at my desk, my mind wandered to Mia, and the smile that formed on my lips was as genuine as they come. We were not only deeply in love but also eagerly awaiting the arrival of our first child. The thought of becoming a father filled me with a sense of excitement, purpose, and an overwhelming desire to be the best husband and father I could possibly be for Mia and our unborn baby.
As I daydreamed about our future as a family, an idea suddenly popped into my mind. It was as if a lightbulb had gone off, illuminating a path I hadn’t considered before. So much had been happening in our lives in the past few months, from the pregnancy news to the whirlwind of drama that had unfolded around us. Our focus had been almost entirely on managing the challenges, and amidst it all, we hadn’t even had a moment to think about our honeymoon.
The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. We deserved a honeymoon, a break from the chaos that had consumed us. It was time to celebrate our love and cherish the moments we had together.
I called in my assistant, who always seemed to have the uncanny ability to materialize at just the right time. She walked in, her notepad ready to capture any task or instruction I might have for her.
“Yes, Mr. Thornton,” she said, her professional demeanor in place.
I leaned forward, my eyes fixed on her as I spoke with determination, “Book my honeymoon for me. And please, tell Mrs. Thornton to keep next weekend open.”
I watched as my assistant exited my office with purpose, ready to undertake the necessary preparations for our long-overdue honeymoon. She was efficient and reliable, a true asset in managing both my professional and personal life. Her footsteps echoed softly down the corridor, and the door closed behind her.
With her departure, I let out a contented sigh, feeling the weight of the world lift from my shoulders. The decision to surprise Mia with a well-deserved honeymoon had filled me with a sense of satisfaction. It was a gesture that, in my heart, reflected the deep love I had for her, and I was willing to do anything to keep my woman happy.
The thought “happy wife, happy life” resonated in my mind, and it held an undeniable truth. Mia was my partner, my confidante, and the love of my life. Her happiness was my utmost priority, and if a simple surprise honeymoon could bring a smile to her face, then it was worth every effort.
Turning my attention back to the work that had previously felt like an insurmountable mountain, I was surprised by how my perspective had shifted. The daunting stack of tasks that had seemed almost oppressive earlier didn’t look as formidable now. With a newfound sense of determination and a smile playing on my lips, I began to tackle the work one item at a time.
Each report I reviewed, each email I sent, and each phone call I made was infused with a sense of purpose. The knowledge that this effort would pave the way for a weekend of uninterrupted bliss with Mia was all the motivation I needed.